No Idea
by Panda Gravy
Summary: He couldn't stop watching, though. Not now. What would James do if Logan pushed the closet door open and saw him there fondling his sheets? Jagan. NC-17. Warning: non-con voyeurism and scent fetish.


**No Idea**

_He couldn't stop watching, though. Not now. What would James do if Logan pushed the closet door open and saw him there fondling his sheets?_

**a/n: I have nothing to say besides that this will probably change the way anyone hears No Idea. And I have no regrets. **Normally this would go in I'll Hold My Breath, but I don't want to bump that rating up given how many fics are in it already.****

**Warnings: non-consensual voyeurism and scent fetish.**

…

This online advanced calculus course was kicking Logan's butt. He hadn't been in a real math class since they left Minnesota, and although he dealt better on his own than in a classroom setting, the lack of an actual teacher was making the groove a little tighter and therefore harder to get into.

Most of the course specifically instructed not to use a graphing calculator, so Logan hadn't even considered getting his down out of the closet shelf where it sat after a couple years of disuse. When he reached a part of his homework that dictated he would need his calculator, he threw down his pencil in a slight huff and got up from his desk, stalking to the other side of the room.

There was a small walk-in closet in Logan and Kendall's room that they shared. Logan had one side and Kendall had the other. There were shelves above the racks of their clothes and, unfortunately, it always took Logan a little bit more effort to reach his shelf than Kendall did for his. He kicked out a step-stool he kept hidden in the corner behind a box—he hoped Kendall didn't know it was there. It was embarrassing enough that he had to use it.—and stepped up, giving himself another foot of height. This way he could see and grope around on the shelf for the graphing calculator he hadn't needed since high school and he was more than annoyed that he needed to find it now.

As Logan stepped down and hit the switch on the closet light, he heard the door to his bedroom open and James' voice wafted in. "Logan? You here?"

Logan had no idea what possessed him not to move. But his closet door was open just a crack and he could see James sigh heavily when he noticed Logan's absence and go to sit on the edge of Logan's bed. The right thing to do would have been to go out into his room to see James, to talk to him, especially when something seemed to be bothering him. But some fate-like force kept Logan rooted at the closet door, peering through the crack with the calculator in his hands, his thumb running over plastic seams continuously. Something in his chest kept his mouth clamped shut and his feet completely still.

James sat at the edge of the bed with his hands in his lap, seemingly waiting for Logan to arrive. He kept glancing at the bedroom door that he'd closed behind him, then sighing and looking around the room. His foot tapped at the carpet while his fingers entertained themselves exploring his hands.

After nearly a whole thirty seconds of watching James twiddle his thumbs, Logan shook his head at his own strange ridiculousness and moved to push the closet door open. But his hand stilled when his fingertips were touching the wood; James suddenly drew his hand across Logan's sheets in a slow, stroking manner. He watched his own fingers smoothing along the fabric that Logan laid in night after night, turning to lift one knee up on the bed to sit sideways. He felt the bedding, grasped at it and caressed it some more. Logan frowned, staring as James closed his eyes, his eyebrows twitching inwards into something Logan couldn't read.

This was strange. All Logan could imagine was that James was enjoying the softness of Logan's sheets, but he was fairly sure they all had the same bedding material, so what made his special? He couldn't stop watching, though. Not now. What would James do if Logan pushed the closet door open and saw him there fondling his sheets?

…and a bigger question was, "What would James do if Logan pushed the closet door open _now_ to see him slowly leaning over, pressing his face to Logan's pillow and inhaling deeply?" Logan thought his eyes were going to fall out of their sockets. James was smelling his pillow—_James_ was _smelling_ his _pillow_. There were so many confusing things in this situation that he didn't know where to begin.

His heart began racing and he scowled, unsure why it was doing something like that, and the calculator nearly slipped from his hands. Luckily, Logan's brain caught up with his body and he caught the thing before it hit the floor. A sound like that would have been very bad right now, very bad. To avoid any other mishaps, he slowly bent over, setting the device on the ground, but always keeping his eyes on James through the crack.

He had shifted onto his side now, his face half-buried in Logan's pillow and breathing steadily. Nothing else seemed to be happening for a very long time. James just clutched at the sheets and breathed Logan's scent like it was the very essence of life. It went on for so long that Logan thought his face might literally melt off from all the heat it was accumulating.

Then, suddenly, in the time it took Logan to blink, James was hastily undoing the front of his pants. He lifted his head to watch the door as he did so, but as soon as the zipper was down and button popped open, he pressed his face back down to Logan's pillow. He sucked air in deeply as a hand slipped into his jeans.

Logan immediately inserted a knuckle in his mouth and bit hard to keep himself silent. He was totally clueless as to what was going on, but it made a noise grow in his chest that he had to smother for both his and James' sakes. What could he do? It wasn't like he could open the door and stop everything; it would be murder-suicide. Neither party would be able to look the other steadily in the eye again.

And besides the ratifications, Logan wasn't sure he wanted to stop James. He was curious. A good part of him ashamedly wanted to see what would happen next.

James' breathing increased and Logan could see his hand moving underneath his pants, grabbing and stroking at his swollen crotch. Logan's knees buckled a little and he closed his eyes, holding his breath. He couldn't control his heartbeat at this point, the stupid thing thrumming rhythmically against his ribs so hard there was no way James didn't hear the pounding. He kept his eyes shut as long as he could, hoping maybe when he opened them, James would have left—or maybe not have been there at all, this was all in Logan's twisted imagination.

…but then what did that say about Logan?

That thought had him opening his eyes again in an attempt to escape his thoughts. But as much as he tried not to think about it, he couldn't help the fact that he could never completely turn off his brain. And, besides. No amount of thinking was ever going to fight off the definite bulge growing at the front of his jeans. The noises coming from his bed weren't helping.

It was impossible to look away from James now. He was panting into Logan's pillow, using one hand to clutch the pillowcase to his mouth and nose, breathing as deeply as he could while his other hand jerked under the confines of his underwear. He licked and bit his lips, obviously trying to breathe as deep as he could to draw in Logan's scent on the bed. He dropped his hand from the pillow and ran it across the sheets, pulling at it helplessly.

Logan couldn't stand it. His jeans were too tight, the closet too small, the air too thick, James too hot. He needed relief. He hastily undid his pants, keeping his lips pressed tight together and swallowing any noise he was tempted to make. Which was extremely difficult when he was listening to James whine and moan mercilessly as he practically writhed in pleasure on his bed. His bed that apparently reeked so much of him that James could get off on it. And now here was Logan with his pants around his thighs, hand already stroking his erect length, getting off on watching James get off.

He leaned a hand against the wall next to the door, extremely careful the whole time not to make a noise, not one moan or bump. He was jerking his hand fast, rubbing at the end of his dick with his thumb on every stroke. He found himself licking his lips, wishing James would take his cock out of his pants, just expose it as he jacked off, bring it in the open air, rub it out where Logan could see…

His hand halted near the base and he looked down. This was so wrong… watching James jerk off when he had no idea… hiding in the closet like some kind of kinky freak…

…wait. James was the one laying in his bed _smelling his sheets_ and jerking off to it. Logan immediately looked back up and stared hard at James as he resumed jerking off vigorously. He continually had to bite back groans and even found himself keeping from saying James' name a couple times.

Soon, James was whining a little quicker and his hand was moving faster in his pants and Logan felt like he was _dying_ inside, like something was crushing all his organs, because he couldn't remember wanting anything more than wanting James to pull his cock out and finish right there in the open.

Still… even with it hidden, he couldn't have imagined what a thrill it would be to watch James' hips jerk slightly off the bed, his shoulders tensing as he gasped Logan's name under his breath over and over like it had a million syllables. As James moaned midway through his orgasm, Logan felt a tight heat build low in his groin and he had to hold his breath to keep from choking on a particularly feisty sound in his lungs. He spilled wet and warm on his hand, pumping through as he watched James come down, his hand stilling under his jeans as he laid there just inhaling Logan on his pillowcase as he caught his breath.

Logan's own hand stopped where it was and he just gazed through the crack at James, apprehensive of what would happen next. Everything felt tenser now that they'd both spilled over the thought of the other without even being close enough to touch. Logan never wanted to leave this closet. He wanted to stay in here, watching James trying to catch his breath in Logan's scent forever.

But after a couple moments, James sat up, face a deep red, and began hastily buttoning his pants back up. Logan just barely caught a glimpse of wetness on the exposed part of James' boxer-briefs before he covered it up. In seconds, James was on his feet, turning to fix the bed after he'd screwed it up. He stood in the middle of the room then, looking around him like he might see something new. Logan could have sworn that James looked straight at him for a second, and his heart stopped. In fact, everything stopped for just a single drawn-out second as Logan was sure they held direct eye contact through the crack of the door.

And then James fled. He hastily left the room in long gaits, like he had somewhere urgent to be.

Everything was completely silent save for Logan's breathing in the tight closet. He even scared himself making that much noise, convinced at this point that he needed to be silent. He turned and leaned against the doorframe in the dark, sliding to the floor. Shocked and without the ability to do much else besides breathe, Logan held a hand to his forehead, staring with wide eyes into the back of the closet.


End file.
